


Beautiful. Willful. Wild. Legendary.

by LyannaForPresident



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Bit of the show too, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arya & Lyanna Parallels, Arya-centric, Daddy Issues, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallels, R Plus L Equals J, Robert's Rebellion, Robert's Rebellion Parallels, Sister-Sister Relationship, bookverse, mostly follows the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyannaForPresident/pseuds/LyannaForPresident
Summary: A series of vignettes exploring the Arya and Lyanna parallels, especially in relation to them looking alike. Mostly from the view of other characters seeing Arya and Lyanna similarities. Arya centric. Mostly following the books but has show elements as well.





	1. Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This came about after re-watching the scene with Arya and Hot Pie at the Inn at the crossroads, and Hot Pie tells Arya that she’s pretty and she has no idea what to do with that. 
> 
> This is going to be a series of chapter vignettes. I was initially planning on having this be one thing, but it got too long, so I’m doing them individually.
> 
> I saw a post on Tumblr that had a side by side picture of Maisie Williams and the actress who plays Lyanna Stark and the resemblance between the two. I’ve always been fascinated by the Arya and Lyanna parallels both in the show and especially in the books. 
> 
> In terms of timeline, this mostly takes place before the books/show with the dead characters focuses and post the books/show with the characters that are alive.
> 
> This is an AU. Rickon is alive in this because he’s alive in the books and that’s good enough for me because I need my baby Wilding Wolf, and he deserves better, and D&D can fight me. Also, for reference, this takes place in Season 7 and beyond universe and Arya is the Commander of the North’s military and King Jon’s second in command military wise. Sansa is Jon’s second in command politically, in my ultimate endgame. Also, this follows the books in that Aegon (Young Griff) is alive and was smuggled to Essos as a baby. So yeah, here you go.

**Pretty**

Arya Stark has never been good at pretty.

 

Her sewing had never been pretty, quite the opposite, in fact. Her stitches were large and uneven and she always grew frustrated and lashed out.

 

The only needle she had ever cared for was not of the sewing variety. Far from it.

 

Arya had always despised pretty dresses. The long skirts and itchy fabric made it harder for her to run and play and fight. She would much rather nab Bran’s breeches and climb trees. Her mother was always cross with her for muddying her dresses and getting tangles in her hair. So, when her lady mother would force her into a dress, they were never the pretty kind. Why waste them on Arya when she would only ruin them within the hour?

 

She had never been good at pretty words. Not like Sansa. Sansa had always had a talent for smiling and saying exactly what people wanted to hear, even if it was horse shit. When Sansa sang, her voice sounded like little birds, chirping a lovely tune. But when Arya sang, she sounded like wolves howling in the night.

 

She had never been skilled at pretty manners either. She never knew when to curtsy or how deep. Her dancing was awkward and uncoordinated. And her responses were never right.

 

She had never been able to just sit still and look pretty.

 

She was wild to her core, restless, and unable to be tamed.

 

Even her face had never been pretty.

 

Arya Horseface. That's what Sansa and Jeyne had whispered loud enough for her to hear, but just quiet enough so her father didn’t.

 

Sansa had warm auburn hair and crisp blue eyes.

 

But Arya’s hair was dark like onyx and her eyes were the grey of storm clouds.

 

Her lady mother had been pretty.

 

Sansa was pretty.

 

But Arya was not.

 

But now.

 

But now, people said otherwise.

 

Her father never talked about her, but she had heard the stories.

 

Her aunt Lyanna.

 

Beautiful and willful and dead before her time.

 

With her crown of winter roses and her indomitable spirit.

 

The few who were left, those who could still remember, said she had been enchanting. That you couldn’t help but be drawn to her, watch her. She was captivating and alluring, like the North itself.

 

They said the younger Lady Stark was too.

 

But the younger daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn had just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 

Arya Stark refused to believe them. Any of them. All of them.

 

Because Arya Stark had never been pretty.

 

But then again, Lyanna Stark hadn’t been pretty either.

 

No, she had been wild and willful and beautiful and legendary.

 

Lyanna Stark had been beautiful.

 

And so was Arya.


	2. Jon Snow I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is not pleased with Jon's reasoning.

**JON SNOW I**

**Go to War**

They sat in what had once been Ned Stark's solar, planning the war against the Lannisters.

Arya couldn’t help but wonder aloud, that men going to war for her aunt because she was beautiful was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever heard. Well, not as stupid as some of the stories about fair maiden and gallant knights that Sansa had so adored when they were young, but still, stupid.

“They went to war for more than just her.” Arya had pointed out to Jon. “They went to war to avenge Grandfather and Uncle Brandon. To stop the reign of the Mad King.”

 Jon pointed out that men went to war for her as well.

Arya had immediately corrected her brother, or rather, cousin, as she had to keep reminding herself, that this was entirely different. She was his top general and Commander of the Northern Forces. They went to war because she was their _leader_. Because they were sworn to him, to their family, to the North. Not because of her so-called beauty.

 Jon had just chuckled and asked her how she could call him stupid when she herself was so oblivious.

Arya had huffed and called him a name that would make an Ironborn blush before storming out of the room, Jon’s laugh echoing off the stone walls.


	3. Beric Dondarrion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beric predicts the future.

**BERIC DONDARRION I**

**To Die For**

Arya didn’t believe them when they told she looked like Lyanna come again.

 

Beric had predicted she would grow up to be just as beautiful and wild and enchanting as her fabled aunt.

 

Arya promptly told Lord Dondarrion that Thoros must have forgotten to bring his sense back with the rest of him.

 

But the one-eyed leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners just chuckled. “That boy would follow you through the seven hells and back again, without so much as a hesitation. I reckon he's already come close.”

 

Arya followed Dondarrion’s gaze to see Gendry, bare-chested and grimy, hammering away at an anvil, like when they were prisoners at Harrenhall.

 

“I’m his closest friend, the only family he’s ever known.”

 

“No. _You’re_  the girl he’d die for. He's in love with you, even if he hasn't figured it out yet. But he will." He studies the girl in front of him. "Men loved Lyanna, and they died for her too.”


	4. Jaime Lannister I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kingslayer rides North to pledge allegiance to their cause. Winterfell's warrior princess doesn't trust him, but not for the reason he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Jaime and Arya interactions would be really interesting since they've both done terrible things in the name of the people they love, mainly their families.

**JAIME LANNISTER I**

**Mindset**

And when Jaime Lannister, who had abandoned his  _beloved_  twin sister, rides North, is brought in for an audience before the protectors of the North, he sees the resemblance too.

He had prepared what he was going to say, how to appear confident and detached, but when he lays eyes on the North's warrior princess he falters.

"Are you so surprised to find me alive, Ser?" Arya Stark asks a smirk curling on her lips.

"Forgive me, princess. It was not you I was surprised to see back from the dead princess so much as Lady Lyanna."

"I am a Commander."

"Alright then, Princess  _Commander_."

Both the girl and massive beast that crouches beside her look ready to tear him to shreds and probably would have had her sister not stepped in.

Eventually, the girl who was rumored to have avenged the Red Wedding rules that if Lady Brienne vouches for him, he could fight for them. That she trusts the lady knight but she will never trust him.

Though not for the reasons everyone else does. Not because he was Lannister. Not even because he had crippled her brother.

"You're not the only person who has committed sins to in the name of their family. But make no mistake, Lannister, this does not mean you are pardoned and you will pay for what you did to Bran. You will find that I do forgive easily."

And he believes her. The former Commander of Kingsgaurd stares into a pair of steel grey eyes that look far too haunted to be on a face so young, he wonders how much blood stains the girl's hands, about the things she's done for love.

The Lannister recalls the rumors he has heard of the youngest Stark girl. That a girl who can change her face, who rides into battle with a pack of wolves howling at her back. The girl who single handily wiped out more than half a hundred men in less than ten minutes. The North's bloody vengeance. The tales don't seem so ridiculous anymore.

"Because I am an oathbreaker, then?"

"No, you were right to kill the king."

"That is not how your father viewed it."

"Not all oaths deserve to be kept, Ser Jaime. Above all else, my father believed in honor and loyalty. And now he's dead."

For the first time since arriving in Winterfell, the Lion Knight doesn't have a response. True, there had been no love lost between him and the Lord of Winterfell, what with Stark's insufferable honor and that wretched moniker he had forever saddled him with. But Ned Stark didn't deserve to die, not like that. So he doesn't say anything.

"The Mad King burned my grandfather alive while my Uncle Brandon slowly strangled himself to death trying to save his father," Arya tells him. The Kingslayer nods, knowing all too well the truth of the girl's words.

No, the infamous she-wolf tells him, she doesn't trust him because he hadn't killed Aerys sooner.

The golden-haired warrior smirks. "Lyanna never liked me much either."


	5. Old Nan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Nan is off her rocker. Right?

**OLD NAN**

**Not So Crazy**

When she was little, she had come bounding through Winterfell’s gates, riding on a mare that she had commandeered from the stables. Old Nan had been walking through the gate, clutching the hands of Rickon and Bran as she had planning to take them for a walk in the Godswood, when Arya had come charging through.

 

“Be careful, Lyanna! You’re going to run someone over if you don’t watch where you’re going!”

 

Old Nan was senile, Arya had thought to herself. She told them tales of Wight Walkers and Children of the Forest and other fantastical, made-up stories.

 

But now, Arya knew that all those stories were true.


	6. Bran Stark I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bran's bird visions are even more ridiculous than usual.

**Bran Stark I**

**Ridiculous**

Arya could be Lyanna's ghost, the whispers said. 

But Arya had dismissed Bran’s raven ravings when her told such.

She caught Bran looking at her once. She asked him what in the seven hells he was staring at and if she had porridge on her cheek because even though Rickon found it funny, she did not.

Bran had replied, in that eerie way of his, that no, she did not have porridge on her face.

So, she had asked, what was so damn interesting about her that he felt the need to stare?

Her brother remarked that the resemblance was astonishing. That she could be Lyanna reincarnate, a mirror image. Arya told him that of all the insane visions he had ever had, that this was the most ridiculous of all.

Bran just smiled.


	7. Jon Connington I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man whose name gives him away meets a girl with Lyanna Stark's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the books rather the show as Jon Connington and Young Griff/Aegon do not appear in the show. The next chapter will be in Aegon's POV. This AU in which Arya meets Aegon when they are docked in Bravvos and when she leaves the Faceless Men she sails back to Westeros with Aegon/Griff, Connington, & Co.

**JON CONNINGTON I**

**Gives You Away**

“Lyanna.”

That was the first thing Lord Jon Connington had said when he laid eyes on the girl that Aegon had brought onto the ship, believing to be a runaway girl living on the streets of Bravos named Cat, who was trying to get home to Westeros.

Before anyone knew what was happening, she held a knife to the old Stormlord’s throat.

“No.”

But the former Hand of the King holds her icy gaze without flinching. “Lyanna Stark is a hard woman to forget. My best friend died for her. As did thousands of others.”

She withdraws the knife a bit, so it is no longer biting into the man’s throat but still poised to slice his jugular open should he make one wrong move.

“You’re Jon Connington. You were Aerys’ hand and Rhaegar’s friend. You were exiled.” It’s phrased to be a question, only it doesn’t sound like one.

“Aye, I am. And you’re a Stark.”

The girl says nothing, her face as cold and unforgiving as the land she hails from.

“You look far too much like Lyanna to be anyone else. You’re one of Ned Stark’s girls, aren’t you?” Like hers, his question is more a statement than anything else.

The girl nods, finally lowering her knife. “Arya.”

“Then I am sorry for your loss, my Lady. He may have fought a war against me, but your father was a good man.”

A look of sadness far too great for someone so young settles in her stormy eyes. “Aye, he was. And they killed him for it.”

“They always do.”


	8. Aegon Targaryen/Young Griff I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon/Griff has some daddy issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the same AU verse as the previous chapter.

**AEGON TARGARYEN/YOUNG GRIFF I**

**Conflicted**

Aegon Targaryen the Sixth never quite knew how to feel about Rhaegar Targaryen.

Yes, the man had fathered him, but Jon Connington had been the one to raise him.

Rhaegar had abandoned them, his _family_ , in favor of some girl he had met once. His mother and sister had been brutally murdered because of a war Rhaegar started when he ran away with another woman. Sometimes he can’t help but blame the Last Dragon for their fate, as he knows his family in Dorne does.

Aegon watches Arya Stark, beautiful and wild and so unapologetically herself, he can’t help but think that if she is anything like her aunt, then Aegon might understand his father.

And he’s not sure how he feels about that either.


	9. Little Finger I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Finger is a creeper and Arya wants to stick him with the pointy end.

**LITTLE FINGER I**

**Bad Form**

When Arya returned to Winterfell, she encountered Lord Baelish. The man had been obsessed with her mother and now he seemed to have transferred his… affections to Sansa. The way the Mockingbird looked at her sister made Arya’s skin crawl and reach for Needle, with the idea of skewering his eyes on the blade more and more appealing as the days went on.

 

He had attempted to look down his nose at Arya, something that proved difficult seeing as he was only marginally taller than her in stature. The way his beady eyes had raked over her made her feel dirty. “They do not lie. You have your late aunt looks, the way Sansa favors your mother.”

 

Arya glowered at the slimy git. “They _do_ lie. And so do you. Sansa and I are not Catelyn and Lyanna, and you would do well to remember that.”

 

“And her temperament as well.”

 

Arya’s fingers curled around the pommel of Needle, with the intent of taking his tongue along with his eyes, before Sansa had intervened and later lectured her, telling her that slitting the throats of visiting Lords in the Great Hall was bad form.


	10. Sansa Stark I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa convinces Arya to dress up for a feast, but she's still Arya so of course there are knives involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the longest one yet. I wanted to play with the idea of Arya as a femme fatale type of character. Her fascination with the Braavosi Courtesans and her conversations with the Kindly Man in ADwD makes me think that her next apprenticeship will be with the Courtesans. So this chapter is going to go with that AU and I plan to explore this in future chapters as well. This also takes place after the war with the Lannisters and the War for the Dawn is over and the Starks/Targaryen’s have won both.

**SANSA STARK I**

**True Northern Beauty**

 “You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you...”

-Ned Stark

It had taken much pleading, bargaining, and some borderline blackmail, but the Lady of Winterfell had finally convinced Arya “I am not a Lady/Princess fight me” Stark to let her sister dress her up for the feast that was to celebrate their victory over the Lannisters as a result of Queen Cersei’s mysterious and poignantly ironic death and the hands of an unknown killer.

Sansa weaves her fingers through her younger sister’s dark waves, braiding small sections back against her head. Arya once had mentioned that she had seen the Braavosi Courtesans their hair in a similar fashion and had admired it.

Sansa had never known her tomboy little sister to notice things like hairstyles but she supposed that their time apart had changed them both in many ways. Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if sword fighting and knife throwing weren’t the only unladylike pursuits Arya had studied during her time across the Narrow Sea.

She had heard her young sisters stories her time away and still cringed to see the scars left by the stab wounds that nearly caused her sister to bleed to death in the Braavosi streets.

“Everything is a weapon if you know how to wield it.”

Years ago, Sansa would have laughed at the mere thought of Arya even realizing that boys beyond their brothers and Theon existed, especially in a way that wasn’t platonic, but now Sansa wouldn’t put it past the infamous She Wolf of Winterfell to include her sexuality amongst the weapons in her arsenal.

Her sister could be quite charming when it suited her (though it rarely did).

The older woman saw the way men looked at Arya and often teased her sister about it.

The day that Edric Dayne arrived with his men to help in the fight Beyond the Wall, Arya had greeted the young Lord of Starfall with a familiarity and friendliness that Sansa hadn’t seen from her unruly sister since their days in Winterfell all those years ago. But Arya had always had a way of befriending people everywhere she went.

Sansa had noticed the blush on Dornishman’s cheeks when her sister had thrown her arms around him in greeting and the happy sparkle in his lilac eyes when Arya had challenged him to spar, making quips about seeing if he had improved since their last fight and if he was truly the next Sword of the Morning.

Sansa had also noticed the cool manner in which the Baratheon Bull had greeted their new ally, and the way he had crossed his arms against his burly chest, grumbling about little Lordlings when Arya had chatted endlessly to the blonde haired young man about her adventures since leaving the Riverlands and peppering him with questions about what life was like in Dorne.

Lady Stark hadn’t missed the petulant look on the Targaryen Prince’s face either or the suspicious gleam in Jon’s gaze as he had watched the pair.

Arya had them all wrapped around her fingers without even trying and she didn't even realize it.

Sansa had convinced Arya into a gown of midnight blue, saying the color complimented her complexion. The gown has a slit up the side, which Arya claimed gave her more freedom to move and was made of a Dornish silk, the color of the midnight sky.

Since defeating the Night King, winter had slowly begun to thaw, though there was still a chill present in the air, even in Kingslanding. When Sansa pointed this out, Arya had dismissed her sister, claiming that she wouldn’t be cold and that the ice in her veins would keep the chill from setting in. The auburn haired girl had rolled her eyes.

Arya had continued to be her stubborn self, shunning heels in favor her boots, saying that heels were an invention designed to make it more difficult to for women to run away from men’s unwanted advances.

Then her ever unconventional sister had strapped a knife to each thigh.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. I have at least two blades on me at all times.”

“Even when you sleep?”

“Especially asleep. Sleeping makes us less aware of our surroundings making one more vulnerable to attacks.”

And once again, Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if her sister had suffered far more than she let on to still insist on being so heavily armed after the wars were over and they had won.

Sansa had drawn the line when Arya had tried to attach her beloved Needle to her hip. Concealed weapons were one thing, but a sword belt would ruin her ensemble. They had compromised on Arya slipping another dagger into her boot.

Her sister never failed to surprise her, slipping a delicate silver chain around her neck as a finishing touch to her outfit. A pendant depicting a direwolf that bears an astonishing resemblance to Nymeria rested against sister’s collarbone.

“Where did you get that?”

A faint blush painted the younger woman’s cheeks. “Gendry made it as a present for my nameday.”

Sansa arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow. 

Arya blushes harder. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

She smirks and lines her sister’s eyes with kohl, making there already smoking hue look iridescent.

Arya had tried to swat her hands away. “I’m going to look stupid. Painting my face won’t hide the fact that I’m Arya Horseface.”

Sansa had stopped and too her sister’s face in her hands. “Don’t you dare say that. You are not ugly, you never were. It was cruel of men to say those things about you when we were growing up.”

“Then why did you?”

“I was jealous.” 

Arya snorted. “Why would perfect Lady Sansa be jealous of Arya Underfoot?” 

Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed. “I spent years trying to please everyone, get people to like me, caring about what they said and thought of me, obsessing over it. But you never cared what anyone thought of you. You never anyone but yourself and people loved you for it. No matter what trouble you got into, father never got mad at you, not truly. Our brothers always favored you. Robb would take you out riding in the woods and Theon would give you give you tips on your archery when he thought no one else was listening. Bran wanted to play with you and Rickon adored you because you would chase him around the castle rather than scold him for him for not sitting still. You and Jon were inseparable. Everyone adored you and you didn’t even have to try. I was petty and jealous and I’m truly sorry.” 

“That may be true, but I’ll never be pretty. Not like you and mother.”

“Just because you don’t take after mother and I doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. There is more than one kind of beauty, Arya. Father said it himself, you have Lyanna’s look. She wasn’t a Southern beauty like our mother, but she was beautiful. She had a wild and captivating beauty that brought men to their knees. A true Northern beauty, just like you.”

Arya smiles and wraps her arms around her sister. “Thank you.” She murmurs into her older sister’s shoulder and Sansa squeezes her tighter, not caring that she’ll wrinkle her gown. Some things are more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not pitting Arya and Sansa against each other here. I wanted to use this as a way of explaining why Sansa treated Arya the way she did when they were children. They are two very different people who have been on very different journey’s and have very different experiences and talents and both are valid. In my opinion, Sansa is one of the characters who has changed the most dramatically since the beginning of the story and I wanted to explore how her view has changed since we first met her, especially in regards to what she views as important now (her family) whereas what she viewed as important at the beginning (pretty things, boys, fairytales) of and just how far she has come as character.


	11. Ned Stark I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's some angst inspired by Arya and Ned's conversation about wolfblood and when Arya talks to Brienne about how the rules are wrong.

**NED STARK I**

Please Don’t Be Her

 

Arya stands on the porch overlooking the Winterfell courtyard and her mind wanders to when her father used to watch her from this very spot.

 

How she would follow the older boys around, begging to be included. When she would chase Bran and Rickon around until they would collapse in a fit of exhaustion and giggles. Playing stick swords with Jon and practicing her archery. Shooting her one arrow over and over again until her arms ached and she couldn't pull the bow taught anymore.

 

Ned Stark’s face had been stern but his eyes had been smiling a secret smile, only for her, his little wolf girl.

 

Arya remembers when her father would come and watch her dancing lessons with Syrio. She can still see the smile on his face only to be replaced by sorrow a moment later.

 

When she had asked him what was wrong, Ned Stark had smiled at her, that all too familiar smile that wasn’t really a smile at all, just a thin mask of sorrow and guilt. “You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.”

 

But she had heard the words he didn't say. _Please don’t be her. Please._

 

 


	12. Benjen Stark I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Benjen tells Arya about her namesakes.

**BENJEN STARK I**

Namesakes

Her father never talked about Aunt Lyanna.

 

Once Arya had asked her Uncle Benjen why.

 

The First Ranger of the Night’s Watch told his niece that her father had loved Lyanna more than anyone. That they had been inseparable as children.

 

“Like you and Jon.” He had said.

 

And that when she died, a piece of Ned died with her.

 

Benjen told her that her father had wanted to name her Lyanna. But that when she had been born with a tuft of dark hair and the steel grey eyes that ran through the Stark line, that Ned couldn’t bear to name his newborn daughter after the sister she already resembled so closely.

 

So, instead, he had named her Arya. For her great-grandmother, Arya Flint of the Mountain Clans. The little girl had grinned brightly at this. “I know! I’ll be just as wild!” she had declared.

 

Benjen grinned at the girl, all scraped knees and unfiltered words.

 

“You are the third Stark to bear the name Arya. Do you know who the first was?”

 

She shook her tangled curls, eager for a new story. “The first and only Queen in the North.”

 

Arya Stark I had been the first and only queen to rule the North in her own right during the time of the Kings of Winter before Aegon’s conquest. Her husband had died when their son had been but two years old, so she had ruled as regent. But when her son came of age, he did not take the throne. He claimed that he would inherit from his mother, as he would his father. And he did. For thirty years, the North had prospered under her rule. Queen Arya had been Lyanna’s favorite of the ancient Starks, she and told Benjen the story a hundred times over. He wondered if that was Ned’s way of naming his wild little girl for their sister after all.

 

From that day on, Queen Arya Stark I had become one of Arya’s favorite stories too.

 

That night at the feast, he watched his youngest niece tell his youngest nephew the story of Queen Arya. Benjen watched as Rickon’s chubby cheeks grinned and Arya’s grey eyes sparkled and he had never missed his sister as much as he did in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I took some liberties on. When I see Arya quoted it is written as Arya Stark III. I know she was named for Ned's grandmother, Arya Flint. But I did some research and I could not find out who the first Arya Stark was. So this is my way of explaining it. 


	13. Cersei Lannister I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods seem fit to mock Cersei Lannister, even in her final moments.

**CERSEI LANNISTER I**

A Sense of Irony

 

When Arya Stark enters the throne room of the Red Keep, she’s sitting astride her direwolf. Blood stains her hands, and her body is cut and bruised from fighting her way in.

 

She jumps from the back of giant direwolf with the grace of a cat to find Cersei Lannister sitting atop the Iron Throne, a crown of Lannister gold on her head, her face a regal mask of stone.

 

The Baratheon bastard and his war hammer flank her right, while the lost dragon prince in his scarlet and black armor stand to her left.  

 

Cersei has been defeated, and a cackle rips its way from her throat the way the Lannisters had ripped away her father all those years ago.

 

“Is this to be my end? Ghosts?” The golden queen shouts it to the ceiling. The Queen turns her emerald gaze back to the trio before her. “The ghost of Lyanna Stark, flanked by her lovers. The gods always did have a sense of irony.”

 

Arya feels Gendry shift uneasily and Aegon tense.

 

Nymeria growls but does not advance.

 

Not yet.

 

The girl stands her ground, not rising to the bait. Her steel eyes away from their battle with the wildfire green ones.

 

The Queen remembers her as a little slip of a girl, wild and unruly. It is hard for her to reconcile the memory with the young woman she sees before.

 

A wolf bitch with Lyanna Stark’s face.

 

The girl tells her companions that she would like a moment alone with the woman whose name she has whispered first, before all the others, every night for years.

 

The she-wolf ascended the steps with an almost unnatural grace until she is face to face with the Golden Queen atop her throne of swords.

 

“Call me what you will, but it will not change who I am. I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.” The steel in her eyes is eerily reminiscent late Lord father’s. “But you already knew that.”

 

“Your name doesn’t matter. You have her passion, her beauty, her _spirit_.” She sneers the last word, making it sound like a curse and silently, Arya can’t help but agree.

 

“I always knew Lyanna Stark would be my undoing, though I never imagined quite so literally.” She chuckles a dry and humorless sound. “Tell me, little wolf, are you going to be the one to kill me?”

 

Ned Stark’s precious little girl, the one the Northerners call their warrior queen, smiles a feral grin, and for a moment, Arya Stark looks every inch the direwolf stalking her prey.

 

When the Bastard Bull and the Lost Dragon return to the throne room, this time with the King in the North, the Dragon Queen, the Imp, and the Lady of Winterfell, they find the Mad Queen’s head skewered through the tallest sword on the Iron Throne, her golden crown atop her head.

 

Arya Stark sits perched on the arm of the cold steel chair, her boiled leathers bathed in Lannister crimson. In her hands, she holds a human heart.

 

The girl examines the organ with a cold detachment.

 

“It seems she had a heart after all.” And with that, Arya Stark drops the human heart to the floor and walks out of the throne room without a glancing back.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Arya has always taken her taken her vengeance with a side of irony. I am writing a somewhat similar one-shot AU where she kills Joffrey in a similar fashion that I will post eventually.


	14. Gendry Waters I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hard he tries, Gendry can't forget the ghost of the stubborn little wolf girl he lost all those years ago.

**GENDRY WATERS I**

Never Be the Same

 

Gendry spends all his days the same. He haggles over the price of steel and stokes the flames and pounds metal into weapons.

 

Gendry had always liked the constant steady rhythm that came with smithing. It gave him time to think. But now he is no longer sure.

 

His thoughts still wander but somehow they always seem to end up back to her.

 

He had spent years following her and now, even in death, she still seemed to have a hold on him.

 

Gendry thinks of the day he returned to Flea Bottom.

 

He remembers hearing about the Red Wedding.  How the Frey’s had broken guest rights and slaughtered the Northerners.

 

That they had killed the Starks, every Stark, down to the babe in the Queen’s belly.

 

The thought makes him sick.

 

He should have been there. He should have fought for her, died beside her.

 

But instead, he was a coward. He was afraid of her leaving him, just like everyone else. So he left her first.

 

She’s right, he thinks with a grimace. I am stupid.

 

No matter how hard Gendry tries to push her out of his mind, she always finds her way back. Even the ghost of her is stubborn.

 

Gendry rarely drinks. He is too scared of becoming his father. But today he does.

 

 _She would be five and ten today_ , he thinks, taking another large swing of his ale.  _A woman grown._

 

He wonders what she would look like now.

 

He thinks of her and that acorn dress she so hated. But Gendry had liked it, though he would never admit to it. Arya had been pretty then and it terrifies him to think of how beautiful she would be now.

 

The black-haired smith finishes off his ale and starts on another. But the alcohol does nothing to fill the ache in his chest.

 

He knows it’s not good to dwell on the dead, but he can’t help it.

 

_Is this how my father felt when he lost Lady Lyanna?_

 

They say King Robert was never the same.

 

Gendry Waters knows that he isn't the same either.


	15. The Hound I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything Arya has seen, sometimes Sandor Clegane can still be the worst shit in the seven kingdoms.

**The Hound**

**The Worst Shit in the Seven Kingdoms**

Even Sandor fucking Clegane said so.

 

“I could see it, y’know. The older ya got, the harder ya were to protect. More and more kept noticing ya. And it wasn’t that loud mouth of yours that drew their attention. No. They noticed ya for the same reasons they noticed her. I remember that day, in the cursed hell of a castle. She dressed up in armor, made up a false knight and joined the tourney. I reckon you would’ve too, given the chance.”

 

Arya glared at him. But the stupid dog only chuckled at her expression. “Nah, ya wouldn’t ‘ve waited to for the chance. Y'er too fucking impatient for that shit. You would have made one.”

 

And in that moment, he really was the worst shit in the seven kingdoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves feebly* Hi. I know it's been a while and that this is very short. I will be updating my other stuff as soon as I get chance.


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